


It's not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere

by alkjira



Series: Evergreen [6]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Jealous Bard, M/M, Marking, Reunions, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindir knows that he has to go back to Rivendell. And he knows he'll then return to Dale to stay. But that doesn't make it easier on anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic happened at work today, more or less.  
> I should probably read through it again, but I've spent too much time with it now for that to be helpful, so tomorrow. (and I want to post it now so yeah)
> 
> Long bits of Italics = Sindarin, because I don't see the point in having conversations most people won't understand  
> And yeah, just assume that it's Sindarin when two Elves are speaking and they're alone. I think all of you are smart enough to sort it out without too much formatting :)

The sound of hooves against the ground made Lindir look up from where he was crouched, tending to a patch of asters he'd just planted. Tilda, sitting cross-legged next to him (albeit more interested in ladybugs and caterpillars than with the flowers) also looked up.  
  
"What?" she asked, turning to look at Lindir when she couldn’t figure out what he was doing.  
  
"I hear horses," Lindir explained. "And please put the ladybugs back on the grass. They eat the aphids and there aren’t any aphids in your jar."

"Why are they called ladybugs?" Tilda asked, turning the jar upside down, poking at the small spotted beetles until they’d all fallen out of it.  
  
"I would think it's for one of the Valar." Lindir tilted his head to the side. It was unusual to hear that many horses enter Dale. And something about the sound was oddly familiar, more than just the familiarity of horses in general.  
  
"Can I keep any caterpillars I find?"  
  
"Will they end up in someone's bed?"  
  
"Nooooo?"  
  
"Put them back on the grass."  
  
The horses were getting closer, so when Bard walked out of the house Lindir rose to his feet.  
  
"I think we're getting guests."

Bard looked up at the sky. "Is this like how you know it's going to rain?"  
  
"I hear _horses_." Lindir smiled at Bard. "I can't hear rain unless it falls on something, same as you can."

"Or so you tell me," Bard said and returned the smile. "Well, if there're many horses then perhaps it is a delegation from Mirkwood."

Lindir nodded as that would also explain why there was something familiar about the sound of the horses. Men and Elves did not ride in exactly the same fashion. "Perhaps you should wear-"

"Finish that sentence with 'crown' and you're sleeping on the roof tonight."

Together with the trade agreement King Thorin had also sent along a crown, as a gift for the King of Dale.

It was rather beautiful, silver and golden wires woven together into something that looked sturdy and ethereal at the same time, but Bard eyed it as you would a poisonous insect and claimed it was Thorin's revenge. For what exactly he refused to specify. And so far he'd refused to wear it.

"As I do not actually sleep I am free to finish my sentence as I please then," Lindir said loftily, biting his lip to hide a smile at Bard's exaggerated moan of despair.

"Can I-  _May_ I sleep on the roof?" Tilda asked, looking entirely too interested in the idea for Lindir’s peace of mind.  
  
"I think-" Bard began, but then he paused and turned his attention towards their gate.  
  
A horse neighed softly, and Lindir turned around as well to see-

" _Haldir_ ," he breathed not seeing the small frown that touched Bards brow at the pleased surprise in Lindir's voice.

It was really Haldir, riding on the foremost of the six horses coming to a halt outside the low stone wall surrounding their house. Lindir couldn’t even remember when he'd last seen his friend. And to meet him here, that was most unexpected, but most welcome.

“ _Well met, my friend_ ,” Haldir said as he dismounted from his horse. 

“ _Haldir_ -“ Lindir struggled to find words as he walked down the path to where Haldir was standing. “ _You are here_.”

 _“_ _My lady sent me to Mirkwood. King Thranduil was kind enough to tell me that yo_ _u’ve been in Dale for some time.”_ Haldir shrugged and gave Lindir a small smile. _“Obviously I had to come.”_

It then occurred to Lindir how rude they must seem and he turned back to Bard who was still standing just outside the house but now with Tilda in front of him; his hand on Tilda's shoulder. More to keep her from getting too close to the horses than from any anxiety from the girl, at least judging by the keen sparkle of interest in her eyes. 

"My apologies. Bard, this is Haldir, Marchwarden of Lórien. Envoy of Lady Galadriel. And-“ he turned back to Haldir and inclined his head. “Old friend of mine.” He raised his head to find an amused look in Haldir’s blue eyes. “Haldir, this is Bard, King of Dale, and his youngest daughter Tilda."

"Your Majesty," Haldir said and bowed. "Your Royal Highness," he added, smiling at Tilda.

"Hello," Tilda chimed. "Could I pet your horse? She's really pretty." She looked longingly at Haldir’s white mare, who whickered as if she knew she was being spoken to.  
  
"Tilda..." Bard admonished.

"What, she  _is_."

"Perhaps later," Haldir said diplomatically, likely seeing the pinched expression on Bard's face, but not understanding that it had more to do with the use of his official title and not anything to do with horses.  
  
"Welcome to Dale." Bard squeezed Tilda's shoulder before letting go of her. "Will you be staying long?"  
  
Haldir shook his head. "I’m afraid not."  
  
"Surely you can at least stay the night?" Lindir said. "Please. To rest before your journey."

"We _have_ just come from King Thranduil's court," the blond smiled. "I promise he treated us well." Moving his gaze to Bard Haldir inclined his head. "But if it would not be too much trouble I would not mind staying a night in this lovely city."  
  
"Bard?" Lindir asked, and the Man nodded.

"Of course. Please, leave your horses and I'll arrange for them to be cared for. I’m afraid you won’t all fit in my house, but we’ll find other rooms for you.“  
  
“It would be a kindness if we could remain together, Sire,” Haldir said, and Lindir most assuredly did _not_ need to bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the expression flitting across Bard’s face. “There are six of us in total. But we can sleep with the horses if-“  
  
“I think we can do better than that,” Bard said somewhat dryly. “Please, all of you, come in and join us for refreshments. Tilda, will you please go and find Jonas for me?”  
  
The girl gave the horses a longing look, but nodded and scampered off, climbing over the stone wall once she reached it.  
  
“There are roads in this city,” Bard called after her.  
  
“Roads take too much time!”

“ _You_ _call a king by his first name,”_ Haldir remarked as they walked together towards the house, Haldir’s five companions following. “ _And you_ ** _blush_** _like a maiden fair,”_ Haldir added, giving Lindir a teasing smile that did not at all help his blush. _“And you are living with him, yes?”_  
  
“ _Is there a point to this_ _questioning_?” Lindir asked, willing the redness on his cheeks to go away.  
  
“ _I_ _was not sure that_ _what K_ _ing Thranduil told me was true_ ,” Haldir admitted. " _I am now._ "

 “ _He is my beloved_ ,” Lindir said and Haldir's teasing smile softened.

_“Good, I am happy for you, my friend.”_

" _And I am also happy_ ," Lindir said and smiled at Bard who was waiting for them at the door, his own smile widening as Bard smiled back.

-

Lindir took dinner with Haldir that night, wanting the chance to catch up on everything that had happened since last they met, only returning to the house after the children was already asleep. He wasn’t sure if Bard would be as well, but he found his love sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room.  
  
To sit in the other one would put him too far away from Bard, so instead Lindir sank down on the floor in front of him, resting his cheek against Bard’s leg. For a moment they sat together in silence.

"Haldir has offered to take me to Rivendell. King Thranduil has asked them to carry a message to Lord Elrond. But then I need to leave tomorrow."  
  
Lindir had of course begun planning his journey to Rivendell, but had not intended to leave just yet. Another week. Or two. There was still time for him to make the journey and return to Dale before winter.

"It would be safer for you to join them," Bard said, his hand coming up to stroke through Lindir’s hair, but there was a tension to his voice that Lindir didn’t like.

"I  _am_ coming back," Lindir said, and Bard froze, fingers twitching. Lindir turned his head to look up at him. "Bard, I wouldn't--"

The Man sighed and moved his hand to cup Lindir’s cheek. "No I know. I know. I do. Truly. I'm just, I'm jealous."

"There is no reason at all for you to be jealous of Lord Elrond.”  
  
"I'm pretty sure jealously is not a rational thing," Bard said with a wry smile. "But actually it's not Lord Elrond I'm talking about here. It's your friend, Haldir."

"Haldir?” Lindir frowned. “But it’s been centuries since we were lovers.”

Bard winced. "Ah, I did not need to know that. No, ignore me,” he added when Lindir began to apologise. “ _I'm_ sorry. Of course you can tell me things like that. It's just… like I said, this is not a rational feeling."

Lindir bit his lip. "Have I given you any reason to-"  
  
"No, no," Bard shook his head. "Lindir, of course not. I'm just- I'll- This is not your problem. Or fault. And I _really_ wish you weren’t sitting on the floor. Come on. Please.”  
  
Lindir accepted Bard’s hand and rose to his feet, following Bard into their bedroom, going to sit on the bed as Bard closed the door.

"I've been greedy,” the Man sighed, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “While you've been here you've just been, you've been _my_ Lindir. And the children's. And I’ve wanted to forget that part of you might very well belong to other people too. People you’ve got a history with.” Bard snorted. “A _long_ history with.”

“And I love you. No other.” Lindir held his hand out and Bard sighed again, but he walked over and took it, letting Lindir tug him down to sit on the bed as well.  
  
“I know and I supposed that makes me twice the fool.”

"You're not,” Lindir protested.  
  
“Just a normal fool then?” Bard suggested, the left corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Would you like for me to ask Haldir to spread word that you prefer to addressed as His Majesty the Great Dragon Slayer?” Lindir asked mildly. “If you wouldn’t I’d thank you to stop disparage the one I love.”  
  
“I love you too, Lindir,” Bard murmured. “So very much.”  
  
“I love you.” Squeezing Bard’s hand Lindir leaned in for a kiss, which turned into another kiss, and another, and into Lindir’s hands finding their way inside Bard’s loose shirt and onto warm skin.

"I can be quiet," Lindir murmured as he nudged Bard to lie on the bed. “I’d like to have you inside me.”

"You need to be on horseback all of tomorrow,” Bard murmured, hands stroking down Lindir’s still covered arms. “It’s not-“  
  
“It won’t hurt,” Lindir said. “You’ve never hurt me. And if I’m reminded of you all of tomorrow then I’d like that. For my body to carry a memory of your touch.”  
  
Bard was silent for a moment. “Then I'd like a memory of you as well.”  
  
“Of course,” Lindir said, and when Bard’s hand moved to his hair, tugging gently, gently, Lindir expected Bard to ask for a lock of his hair. But not so.  
  
“I’d like for you to mark me,” Bard said.  
  
“ _Mark_ you?” Lindir blinked and pulled back a little. “Mark you in what way?”  
  
Turning his head to the side Bard hooked his fingers in the collar of his shirt and tugged, baring the strong, golden column of his neck.

“With your mouth. Your teeth” He looked back at Lindir, eyes dark. “It won't really hurt," he added, echoing Lindir's words without noticing. "But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Lindir lifted his hand and trailed his fingers over the fragile, tender skin at the base of Bard’s throat, up to the place where he could feel his blood surge with every beat of his heart.  
  
“I promise I’ll like it,” Bard said, covering Lindir’s hand with his. “I’d not ask you to hurt me. If you do it when I’m inside you it will-“ He shuddered and his eyes fluttered close, and when they opened again they were even darken when before. “It will be really good for me.”

“Then I will enjoy it too,” Lindir whispered, leaning down for another kiss.  
  
He’d not been entirely sure that he would actually enjoy it when he’d said those words, only knowing that he wanted to like it, and that he always enjoyed giving Bard pleasure.  
  
But once Lindir was lying on his back, arms and legs wrapped around Bard, Bard’s hard length rocking in and out of him with a gentle rhythm older than the stars, his own length pressed between their bodies, it was the easiest thing in the world to stretch up and kiss Bard’s neck.  
  
Before his lips found skin the only sounds in the world had been soft sighs and the beating of their hearts, but as Lindir’s mouth touched Bard’s neck the Man let out a small moan, tilting his head to the side, baring his neck before Lindir as an offering.  
  
The slightest hint of teeth earned him another moan, same when Lindir first licked and then sucked at the spot he’d picked for himself. The latter also made Bard’s hips stutter, and Lindir would have smiled had his mouth not been otherwise occupied.  
  
It was just so immensely pleasing to know that there were many more things he’d yet to learn about this Man, his love. His heart might know Bard as well as one heart could ever know another, but that did not mean that there was nothing left to explore and discover.

“Others will see,” Lindir murmured, lips still pressed against Bard’s skin. “If I mark you.”  
  
“ _Good_ ,” Bard gasped, breath hot against Lindir’s own neck, and he gasped again as Lindir sank his teeth into the muscle at the side of his neck. Not far enough to draw blood, but enough to bruise.  
  
Lindir soothed the bite with his tongue, lapping over the mark, pressing kisses to it, and as he did so Bard shuddered and groaned, and pushed his hips against Lindir’s with an ever quickening pace.  
  
Lindir shuddered and jerked as Bard did, feeling the swell of the cock inside of him; the sudden increase in slickness.  
  
“I love you,” Bard whispered. “I love you, Lindir. I love you.  
  
When he moved to pull away Lindir tightened his arms and legs around him.  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
“But you haven’t-“  
  
“Can we stay like this for a little longer?” Lindir asked, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Bard’s face, tucking it behind a round ear, moving his fingers down to the mark he’d made; the skin burning hot to the touch.  
  
Bard hissed as he touched it, and his hips jerked a final time.  
  
Lindir eagerly lifted his head for a kiss when Bard leaned down, and they traded kisses until Bard had softened enough that Lindir’s body could not easily hold him.  
  
“Will you remember?” Bard asked as he kissed his way down Lindir’s body, flicking his tongue over dark-pink nipples, into his navel.  
  
“Yes,” Lindir promised as Bard’s hands grasped his hips, thumbs rubbing circles over the hollows made by the bone there. “Yes,” he said again as Bard took him into his mouth. “Yes, I’ll remember.”

-

"Do you still enjoy candied almonds?” Haldir asked.

"I am not a child that can be comforted by sweets."  
  
Haldir didn’t sigh but Lindir felt the presence of a sigh even so. "Have one anyway."

Lindir huffed, rather negating any statement of not being a child, but he stretched out his hand for an almond as it was easier than arguing.  
  
The treat was sugary and spiced and Lindir chewed and swallowed without really noticing more than a lingering sweetness.  
  
It was the second day since they’d left Dale, and there were many more to come.  
  
Lindir sighed. Many, many more to come. And horses could not gallop without rest, which mean that there had to be times like this, with a more sedate pace. Indeed.

"While pining does not, _love_ does indeed suit you, my friend.”  
  
When Lindir turned to look at Haldir the blond wore an almost wistful smile. “It makes me a little envious that we did not find it together."

"It was not meant to be."  
  
He had been drawn to Haldir already on their first meeting, but it had not been a bond forged by their hearts. He had been young, and it was not his heart that wondered just how very different Haldir might look from other Elves, what those strong shoulders and arms would look like without any cloth covering them. But he had never wanted to know what his smile would taste like.  
  
What Haldir had seen in him in turn Lindir did not know, but for a time they had been lovers, and then friends, and the best of friends and sometimes lovers.  
  
"Indeed not," Haldir agreed, his smile open and easy in a way that Lindir had always envied. "But I shall forever be your friend."  
  
"And I yours," Lindir said, accepting another almond when Haldir offered him the bag.

-

Though endlessly long their journey was uneventful (and not actually endless) and they arrived in Rivendell safe and sound.  
  
Speaking to Lord Elrond about his decision was much like Lindir had expected, and once his Lord saw that he’d made up his mind his decision was accepted without any further arguments.  
  
"His mortality will take him from you, and that distance is not possible to overcome. Not even with the fastest of horses.”

Lindir held his head high. "And Until that moment of parting all other moments I can spend with him are the more precious for it."  
  
“He will grow old.”

"We don't choose love, my Lord. It chooses us. I can no more stop loving him than I can stop time."

His Lord sighed. “I see. Then know that you will always have a place at my side."

"Thank you, my Lord."  
  
-

What he had not expected was that Lord Elrond would insist on escorting him back to Dale.

-

"My Lord, it is not necessary."  
  
"I think it is." Lord Elrond raised an eyebrow and Lindir knew better than to protest, which is not to say that he didn’t try anyway.  
  
“I would not want to take up so much of your time.”  
  
“Nonsense,” his Lord said and waved his hand dismissively. “And I might as well go and meet with Thranduil. He’s been displeased with me for some time now, best to give him the opportunity to complain to my face lest he drive everyone else to misery instead.”

"Yes, my Lord." Lindir said and bowed, hands clasped together behind his back.  
  
He was not _displeased_ , but it was true that it was not necessary for Lord Elrond to join him. However if he had decided to do so then Lindir would enjoy his company. And… he did want Bard to meet him. Even if Bard might not exactly look forward to such an opportunity.

“It’s been some time since I saw you smile like that,” Lord Elrond remarked and Lindir reeled his attention back to the present.  
  
“I have been away longer than we-“  
  
“You misunderstand,” his Lord said. “You did not smile in that manner before you left. Not for a long time.”  
  
“I-“ Lindir ducked his head forward, allowing his hair to hide the beginnings of a blush.  
  
“I _am_ happy for you, Lindir,” Lord Elrond said gently. “Happy, and a little afraid.”  
  
“I- thank you,” Lindir managed, his throat tight, and he lifted his gaze to meet the dark eyes of his sworn Lord, the one he had now asked to leave. “But I would not wish for another fate.”  
  
Lord Elrond nodded. “We leave in the morning then,” was the reply he got. “Unless you wish to rest longer?”  
  
“No, thank you, my Lord.”

“Very well.”  
  
-

The closer they got to Dale the more impatient Lindir got. Eventually enough that he could not fully hide it from Lord Elrond. On the final night that they made camp; Dale no more than a few hours away, Lindir wanted nothing more than to saddle a horse and ride and ride and not stop until he’d arrived to… arrived _home_.  
  
But he knew it was ill-advised. Their horses were good, but even the best of horses could not see in the dark and there was no moon in the sky to light the path.

"You are restless,” his Lord remarked, and Lindir started.

"Yes," he confessed. "I am."

“Do you think it will make the sun rise faster?” Lord Elrond asked, a note of genuine interest to his voice, as if it was an actual possibility of Lindir being able to do such a thing.  
  
“No, my Lord.”  
  
“Then perhaps you might find it within you to rest for a while, and allow the world to do as it pleases unhindered by your wishes.”

What Lindir ended up doing was watching the stars, hoping that Bard was doing the same thing, or that the stars were at least watching over him.  
  
And that Bard wasn’t on the roof, because neither Tilda nor Bard should be on the roof.

-

His horse had not come to full stop when Lindir dismounted and bound the reins to the post outside the gate.

As he opened the wooden gate and hurried up the path he was dimly aware of Lord Elrond following at a more sedate pace behind him.

"Lindir, you're back!" Tilda screeched once he’d entered the kitchen to find all three of the children gathered there. Moments later he had the smallest glued to his side. “I missed you!”  
  
"I've missed you too, Tilda. And you two as well, of course," Lindir added, looking at Bain and Sigrid, not being able to stop his gaze before it moved to the doorway leading into the living room.

"Yeah, same. But you'd like to know where Da' is, right?" Bain asked, corner of his mouth twitching.

"I- yes." The hand he had pressed to Tilda’s back twitched.

"Meeting,” Bain nodded. “Town hall.”

" _Oh_." Lindir had not meant to sound so desolate and Sigrid snorted in a most unladylike fashion.  
  
"You should go to him, Lindir. He'll be unbearable if he learns that you politely waited until the meeting was over."

"Yeah," Bain agreed. "Go on then."

"Hullo," Tilda said, looking behind Lindir. "Who're you?"

"My name is Elrond, little one."

Her frown made the girl have a strong resemblance to her father and Lindir’s heart twinged for a moment. "I'm not little. I'm  _eleven_."

"Oh, I'm sorry, children this is-"  
  
"Lindir, I think we can handle the introductions," Sigrid said, making a shooing gesture at him. Turning to Lord Elrond she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before offering him a pretty smile, a slight blush on her cheeks.

"Hello, my name is Sigrid."  
  
"Oh, come  _on_ ," Bain muttered, ducking away from Sigrid's elbow.

"Are you sure?" Lindir asked, mind already on the quickest path to the town hall.  
  
"Go," Bain said. "And please don't come back with Da' until you've gotten certain things out of your system."

"You mean _kissing_?" Tilda asked and wrinkled her nose, bumping her head into Lindir’s stomach.  
  
"My Lord, I-"  
  
"I believe you have somewhere else to be," Lord Elrond said, his thin lips quirking up in a small smile. 

"Yes," Lindir agreed. “Thank you.” He ran his hand through Tilda’s messy dark locks, and looked to where the two older children were standing together. “Will you-“  
  
“We’ve said yes already,” Bain said, grinning at him. “Welcome back by the way.”  
  
“Welcome _home_ ,” Sigrid corrected, smiling at him.

-

There was no guard outside the town hall so Lindir slipped inside unnoticed, and well inside he followed the low murmur of voices until he arrived at the main hall.

The voices fell silent as he knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

It was Bard who had asked the question and for a moment Lindir could not get the words to leave his lips. "It is Lindir."  
  
Once more silence descended, only to be shattered as the doors were pulled open with enough force to make them bounce off the walls inside the main hall with a loud bang.

" _Lindir_ ,” Bard said, voice hushed and awed and a thousand other things that Lindir wanted to explore, so when Bard stopped while there was still a few inches of space between them Lindir was confused.  
  
Then he heard the mumble and whispers from the people inside the hall, and he noticed the way Bard held himself, like a too tightly coiled spring even though his eyes roamed up and down Lindir’s body, drinking him in, Bard's strong hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

They were very much in public, and Bard did not want to cross any of the limits Lindir had set. Or rather, he _wanted_ , but he wouldn’t. And Lindir's heart ached as he realised again that he'd keep falling in love with Bard, over and over again, for as long as they had together.

Bard made a soft huffing sound when Lindir threw himself into his arms.   
  
" _Bard_ ," he whispered, burying his face in the crook of Bard's neck, shivering when strong arms came up to wrap around him as he fisted his own hands in the back of Bard’s shirt. “ _Bard_.”

"Lindir,” Bard said, his voice hoarse and Lindir wasn’t sure which one of them who moved first, but then they were kissing.  
  
“Oh, thank you,” Bard whispered, his forehead pressed against Lindir’s. He pressed their lips together again. “Thank you.”

"I don't want to leave again,” Lindir said, his fingers mapping the familiar planes and curves of Bard’s face.

"Then don't leave."  
  
“I won’t,” Lindir promised. “I won’t ever leave."

**Author's Note:**

> Title is borrowed from a poem by Richard Siken, the same giving name to part 4 in these series


End file.
